


Omnics Stay Underground!

by klaviergavout



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Gen, junkrat is angry and mad and all sorts of furious, while zenyatta's just trying to help the poor man
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-19
Updated: 2017-03-19
Packaged: 2018-10-07 23:28:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10372242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/klaviergavout/pseuds/klaviergavout
Summary: In exchange for keeping him out of reach of the law (for now), Overwatch have hired Jamison Fawkes to help them eliminate various threats around the world. One such assignment takes him to King's Row- where he has an unpleasant encounter with an Overwatch-hired omnic, of all things.





	

It's a night full of clouds and ash when Jamison Fawkes stumbles into the London Underground, clutching a trigger in one hand and his bleeding left arm in the other. With clunky strides he moves through the tunnel, taking in deep, hoarse breaths as he does, but he's grinning as he reaches bright yellow seats and slumps wearily down. King's Row is up there on the surface, mere feet above his head, and damned be the omnics if it isn't being blown to hell by Overwatch and some terrorist organisation he couldn't care to remember the name of. In his delirious, adrenaline-fuelled daze, he's completely forgotten the pain of a rusted bullet, and he's happily reliving the experience of blowing some sons-of-bitches to pieces. There's the odd, blissful thought of the payout, too.

There's a bin next to him, half-full of litter and various mechanical parts. It doesn't take him long to root through it, grab two plastic bags and make a tight tourniquet around his wound; there isn't enough time to cauterise it, and all known healers are otherwise engaged, but former experience with the vigilant Junkers has taught him how to improvise. Still fantasising about payouts and scattered limbs and frag mines and rip tyres, he gets up, smiles with a satisfied air, begins to make his way towards the entrance, and _collides full-on with an omnic._

He looks up and realises he's seen this one before, gliding around the battlefield, never really touching the ground- yes, it's rather hard to forget those long hands, those freakish orbs, those garish monk's clothes. Junkrat feels his trigger finger ache to be used as those empty eye slots stare through him.

"You're hurt."

"No _shit,_ " he mutters, getting to his feet, and that's when he sees the orb shoot towards him like a yellow, iridescent grenade. On instinct he darts out the way, hitting the wall hard with his injured arm, and he cries out as it slams into tile. The omnic is still there, watching him, waiting, and every bit of him is churning with rage and pain. His daze has mostly disappeared, gone with his pride, gone with the fact that a heartless machine is taking pity on him.

Junkrat sticks out a stubby finger. "Don't you dare put ya filthy hands on me, metalhead, unless ya want a trip to the scrapheap!"

"I'm not here to hurt you," the omnic begins. "I want to help. Let me heal you."

"Help? Help with _what?"_ Junkrat laughs, devoid of emotion. "Are ya gonna take out the bullets in my skin with your magical orbs? Are ya gonna replace my leg? Huh? Are ya gonna stop this war? I'd like to see ya try, ya pile of junk!"

With that, Junkrat steps forward, grinning through his anger, and prods the omnic's solid chest with as much strength as he can muster. "Nice clothes, droid. Are those yours, or did ya steal them from some human ya killed? Huh? How much blood did it cost to make that cloth red?"

The omnic slowly drifts backward, towards the back wall, towards safety. "Please, stop that."

 _"Stop?_ I didn't see ya stop when ya took me leg! I didn't see ya stop when you killed me friends and claimed our land as yours, dirty omnic! Give me one good reason to _stop!"_

His face is contorted now, twisted in a snarl to rival that of an actual rat's, and he's no longer grinning. If he had the strength to lift his arm up, he'd wipe the beginnings of tears from his eyes.

"Junkrat--"

"You have _no_ idea what I'd do to ya if ya weren't on my side," he interrupts, and he's taking in those deep, hoarse breaths again, almost choking on air. "There's money waiting for me when I get out of this shithole. I can't kill ya. But ya know what? _Fuck that!_ I'm going to give you'a choice."

He walks up to the omnic, so close to it that he can smell the sickly metal, and flings his arms out. "Kill me, or I swear to God, I'll kill ya so quick that ya won't even remember ya were made in the first place. Go on! Kill the cripple with the bombs and the treasure, ya filthy machine, kill me and _walk!"_

The omnic says nothing, unable to answer, and Junkrat laughs the miserable laugh of a man past breaking.

"Just as I thought," he says, with a bitterly triumphant air. Lowering his arms, he turns on his one heel and hobbles away through the tunnel. _"Just_ as I thought."

The London Underground is silent, save for the uneven click of a pegleg on tiled, white floor.

"I'm sorry, Junkrat," says Zenyatta at last, but the man is out of sight.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for giving this a read! I hope the way I wrote Junkrat's accent was bearable enough.  
> I still can't believe that out of everyone in the game, the explosive-loving, robot-hating trash man was my instant favourite.  
> Oh well, it's not like I regret it.


End file.
